Black, White and Red All Over
by LazyPerfectionist17
Summary: Post Strawberries and Cream. Jane is on Death Row for his crime. Lisbon visits him to end their friendship, but will she stay angry after hearing his side of the story? Much Jisbon.
1. Fired Up

**Black, White and Red All Over****:**** Post Strawberries and Cream. Jane is on Death Row for his crime. Lisbon visits him to end their friendship, but will she stay angry after hearing his side of the story? Much Jisbon.**

**Note: I wrote this for Jisbon Day 2011. I hope I have done my fellow Jisbon shippers out there proud! Please R&R! (I'll love you forever).**

**Disclaimer: Yeah, I own the Mentalist…oh wait…nope, still don't. Damn!**

Pushing herself out of the complimentary hospital cab with her good arm, Teresa Lisbon looked up at the CBI Headquarters and thought of how different she was since the last time she entered it. It had only been a day, but so much had changed. She was lame in one arm for a start, after that bastard O'Laughlin had shot her in the shoulder. Last time she was there, her job was a sure thing; her career secure. Now, she had no idea whether Director Bertram would ever trust her again, after her team's vigilante mission to find Red John. Last time she was there, she had known exactly where her team – _her family _- was and what they were doing. Now, she had no idea whether they were even still alive.

Taking a deep breath she strode into the building, looking more confident than she felt. Her heart pounded and a thin film of sweat caressed her forehead as she took the seemingly endless elevator ride to her floor. A stray lock of her wavy, ebony hair floated into her face and stuck to her lip, blocking her vision. Without thinking, she instinctively moved her left arm to brush it away, and immediately buckled as pain shot through her wounded shoulder. She howled, her emerald eyes filling with salty tears of shock and pain, as the elevator doors opened to present a thankfully empty bullpen.

As she hobbled across it, still winded by the pain of her own stupidity, she heard purposeful footsteps clicking along behind her, followed by a low, authoritative voice. "Agent Lisbon!" called Bertram, intercepting her before she reached her office door. She jumped, startled. It was unusual for the director to visit the bullpen. "Morning, Sir," she said trying to smile pleasantly whilst still blinking away her tears. "Lisbon, I need to speak to you." Bertram replied coldly, looking unsympathetically at her slung arm as he gestured towards her office door. "_Now_." He demanded, striding angrily into her office, leaving the door open. "Of….course…." she said uncertainly, eyeing him with immediate suspicion as she sat down in front of him on the opposite side of her desk.

Bertram regarded her silently for a moment, causing her to shift uncomfortably in her chair. She had never been on this side of her desk before. She realised how intimidating it must be for her team members when she called them into her office, and made a silent promise to herself to change the layout as soon as the Director left. Lisbon looked anywhere but into her boss' gaze as she struggled to find the words to fill the awkward silence. She was bursting to ask what had happened after she was shot, where her team was and if they had found Red John, but from the dark expression on Bertram's face she thought it best to stay quiet.

Finally, the tall, balding man spoke: "Agent, what is black, white and read all over?" Lisbon frowned. Was he being serious? This was the oldest riddle in the book! She gulped, at a loss for words. Riddles were not what she expected right now; discipline maybe, anger definitely, but a brain teaser? Bertram looked at her expectantly. "Well?" he asked again, and although she felt like a bear walking into a trap, she knew from his tone that she'd have to answer him before he elucidated any further. "A newspaper…" she replied, her voice saturated with suspicion. "What does that have to do with-"

She was cut off by a flurry of monochrome slapping the table as Bertram produced that day's Sacramento Bee newspaper. "Exactly." he growled and stood up. "And I take it," he continued, walking around the desk until he was beside her, "That you haven't seen today's or you wouldn't have bothered showing up." Lisbon had stopped listening; all she heard from him was white noise as her green eyes fixed on the headline of the front page. "CBI CONSULTANT ON DEATH ROW AFTER SHOOTING INNOCENT MAN IN MALL." She sat in stunned, disbelieving silence as she struggled through the article, words swimming in front of her face as her eyes misted over again. Jane had killed Red John! Her elation was short-lived as she realised that there was no evidence that the man he had shot _was_ Red John. He had obviously known, he wouldn't have killed him otherwise, but no jury would believe that…wait…she read it again, and finally took in what the article said. _No._ This couldn't be happening. Jane couldn't be on Death Row. "I…he…" she stammered, but trailed off when she caught sight of her consultant, her best friend staring out of the picture at her.

She gripped the table to support her now-shaking frame, and at its solid, reliable touch she began to collect her thoughts. Setting her jaw, she wiped her eyes and turned to Bertram, who regarded her with a mixture of pity and smugness that made her want to punch him. "Agent, someone's head has to roll for this. That man, that _worthless piece of crap,_ has disgraced this organisation _yet again_, under your authority." Lisbon bit her lip to prevent the rage seeping out. Her blood boiled at Bertram's audacity to insult Jane, but she forced herself to stay calm and sound sincere when she said "Sir, I apologise. But," she gestured towards the paper, "obviously it won't happen again, so you don't have to worry. I realise that this is partially my fault and I accept responsibility for it. So," she sighed, looking at the floor, "how long is my suspension?"

Bertram looked at her, his eyes twinkling with amusement, and said simply, "Indefinite." Lisbon's head shot up in surprise and confusion, her brain not comprehending what he was implying. He held up a hand to stop the flow of words that was about to pass her lips, and, crouching so they were eye-level and talking very slowly, he spelled it out for her. "Agent Lisbon, hand in your badge and gun. You are officially revoked from your duties as a CBI employee."


	2. Golden Retrievers

Lisbon's feet pounded the pavement as she stormed numbly out of the CBI, using all her willpower to stop herself from looking back. She couldn't break down, not here, not now. She would leave this godforsaken place with all she had left – a photograph of two golden retrievers and her dignity. For some reason, she wished it would rain. It didn't seem fair that in the midst of all her heartache and misfortune the California sun still shone on, bright and warm as ever. It just didn't match.

She thought about calling a cab to drive her home –she had been banned from driving until her shoulder had healed- but couldn't face talking to another person yet. Hell, she couldn't even face her own emotions yet, so she just kept on walking as fast as she could, in no particular direction.

By the time she finally looked up, the sun was beginning to dip towards the horizon. She raised her head, a gentle breeze lifting the ends of her dark hair as she scanned the landscape for a landmark. Seeing the familiar bus station, she realised she was almost home and relaxed, flopping onto a bench on the sidewalk for a rest. Looking around, she didn't know why she was surprised to see that nothing in the neighbourhood had changed. It was only her that was different. _It's like that feeling when you've been away on vacation, _she thought, _and you expect your home to be different by the time you get back._ Closing her eyes, she leaned back against the hard wood bench and let the familiar sounds of waves and traffic wash over her, gently coaxing her into a numb, peaceful state of mind.

_Bang!_ Lisbon jumped and instinctively reached for the place on her hip where she kept her gun, looking around frantically for the source of the noise. Exhaling heavily, relief flooded her as she saw that it was only a car backfiring. Returning to her senses, she looked down at her hand on her hip, grasping thin air, and the realisation crashed down on her, like she had only now heard what Bertram had said. _I don't have a gun. Or a badge. I'm not a cop anymore._

Slowly, she sank back down onto the bench, her jaw slack, as she sat, stunned. She turned her head up towards the shrinking sun, and felt like she was shrinking with it. Her life, her whole being, was her job. And now that it was gone…she had _nothing._

* * *

><p>Later, lying on the couch in her cramped apartment, Lisbon realised that she was still clutching the photograph of the golden retrievers which had sat on her desk for the past nine years. Smiling, she remembered the day she got them, all those years ago. It was before her brothers were born; she had been five years old and had begged her parents for a puppy. After what had seemed like an eternity of pleading, her mother had taken her to the animal shelter, just the two of them, and let her pick a dog. Of course, they had ended up picking two, brother and sister, who they couldn't bear to separate. It was the happiest Lisbon could ever remember being. She'd had no idea that the dogs would outlive her mother, and that this photo would one day be the only evidence that happiness had ever existed in her life.<p>

She sighed at the unfairness of it all – what had she done to deserve all this misfortune? Looking at her useless arm and the worn part of her belt where her CBI badge had rested every day for the last decade, she was overcome with a sense of emptiness, and sudden rage. Hastily, she grabbed the TV remote and flipped on the news, trying to forget her problems by focussing on the rest of the world's. Bad idea. No sooner had she pressed the button than a chipper news presenter announced "CBI consultant Patrick Jane has been sentenced to death after pleading guilty to the murder of a man in a crowded mall. Mr Jane's trial lasted only two hours after a multitude of evidence against him was found at the scene and he admitted committing the heinous crime to a jury…"

Lisbon's head sank into her hands as the real reason for her anger became clear to her. In the midst of her little pity-party she had completely forgotten about the reason for her being fired. _Jane. _Jane had shot and killed Red John, under _her_ authority. _He _was the reason she had lost her career. _He_ was so irresponsible and hell-bent on revenge that he hadn't even considered how the consequences would affect her! Fiery rage pounded through her and the vein in her temple began to throb as she contemplated his arrogant stupidity. But as much as she _hated_ him right now, and she did, she still didn't think he deserved to die, _did he? _After all, Red John had killed his family. Lisbon shook that thought away, as quickly as it had come. Revenge was never the answer. She may not be a cop anymore, but she still felt like one –_ he_ had decided to take a life. It was only right that _he_ was punished. Normally she could defend his actions, but this was the one thing they had completely disagreed on.

She lay down, closing her eyes in an attempt to stop the pounding in her head. "Argh!" she screamed, punching the couch in frustration. She couldn't remember ever feeling so hurt and furious. He had gone too far this time – and she would make sure he knew that! With that anger-fuelled thought, she buried her face in the soft fabric of the couch, defeated by emotion, and drifted off into a restless, tortured sleep.


	3. Strawberries and Cream

Fidgeting nervously with the cross pendant that hung around her neck, Lisbon watched the prison guard approach her. She stood up when he reached her, and ignored his look of disgust when she said she wanted to visit prisoner number 215. "Hot young thing like you, here to visit that piece of scum? Girlfriend?" grunted the guard, and she wrinkled her nose up at him. "Not that it's any of your business," she spat, "but no. Can I see him now?" she asked curtly. The burly guard apologised gruffly, mumbling something about a "damn snooty bitch" under his breath as he led her to a visiting room, complete with a phone and glass window. He gestured to the seat in front of the window and wandered off to get Jane.

The door clicked shut as the rude guard left, and silence enveloped the damp, grey room. Lisbon took a few deep breaths to calm herself, not sure how she would react when she saw him. He didn't give her long to worry, striding into the adjoining room as if he didn't have a care in the world before plopping himself down on the seat facing hers. She picked up the crappy phone, and he mirrored her actions, smiling widely as he greeted her. "Why hello, Lisbon, didn't expect to see you here! I guess you saw the news, I'm going to the electric chair. _Shocking, _isn't it?" he chuckled lamely at his own pun.

Lisbon simply stared at him, her mind awash with emotions, that all played out in her emerald eyes, despite her trying to keep her cool. Jane saw straight through her calm façade, and his own chipper smile faltered. His face turned serious. "You're mad." It wasn't a question. All thoughts of controlling herself gone, Lisbon's rage bubbled to the surface and she exploded. "Mad? _Mad?_ I got _fired, _Jane! And you – how could you be so _stupid?_ Of all the things you could have – _should_ have done, and you're so arrogant and impatient, that you just _shoot_ him, and land yourself on Death Row!" She was screaming now, her hair flying around wildly, as she stood up. "Know, what? Forget it. I thought deep down you respected me, respected my opinion and authority, but apparently I was wrong! I can't even stand to look at you!" she yelled her face contorting in disgust. "Guard!" she called, throwing the phone down so that it dangled on its cable. She turned to leave, angry tears filling her eyes as her heart broke. She didn't know what made her angrier – that Jane had the audacity to look surprised that she was mad, or that he didn't try to stop her leaving. _I thought he cared…_

Finally the guard reached the door and unlocked it. She wrenched it open and was almost through it before Jane yelled "Lisbon!" She couldn't help it, she had to look back. "What?" she demanded, feeling more hurt and betrayed the longer she looked at him.

"He said Charlotte smelled like strawberries and cream."


	4. Silence, Lists and Flipping Coins

"What?" Lisbon asked, despite the fact she had heard him perfectly. Her mouth hung open, as Jane repeated himself, all signs of joking gone from his sapphire eyes. "He told me that my daughter smelled like strawberries and cream when he killed her. And that my wife smelled like soap. When he murdered them in my home." Lisbon felt instantly terrible, and a lump grew in her throat as she found, amongst her anger, sympathy for the man whom she'd once called her friend. He looked so…broken, as he sat, alone, about to be left by the only true friend he had left.

She nodded to the guard, apologising before retreating back into the room, onto the seat, where she faced Jane's blank gaze. "I'm sorry," she said lamely, unable to find the words to truly express the sadness he had evoked in her. To her surprise, he replied, "I'm sorry too." She scoffed, shaking her head. "No you're not." Jane smiled irritatingly at her disbelief. "I don't have any more paper frogs to give you." He joked, referring to his gesture to gain her forgiveness after the first time he had really pissed her off. Against her will, Lisbon chuckled, remembering fondly his endearingly childish gift. Their eyes met, and she nodded, and instantly they both knew that they weren't done. Their friendship had been salvaged, albeit by a lack of paper frogs.

"So," Jane began, running his hand through his curly blonde hair, "How is that shoulder?" he asked conversationally, nodding towards her unflattering sling. She rolled her eyes at his oh-so-subtle change of subject, but sensed that he didn't want to talk about Red John anymore, so she went with it. "It hurts a little, but I'll live." she said, and then blushed, cursing herself for her insensitive choice of words. _For God's sakes Teresa, the man's on death row…_Jane immediately picked up on her embarrassment, and said softly, "Good. You deserve to."

She looked down and silently chewed her lip, as the mood in the room became very solemn. Her silence made it clear to Jane that as much as she wanted to, she didn't return his sentiments. In her eyes, he didn't deserve to live. With every passing second, Lisbon felt more awkward-she used to wish for quiet when Jane was around. But now that neither of them had anything to say…all she wanted was to hear his voice. But still the silence dragged on, until eventually she could bear it no longer. She cleared her throat and stood up, her chair screeching loudly as it scraped back on the concrete floor. "I should go." She announced, and Jane nodded, avoiding her gaze. After a moment, he asked with genuine curiosity, "Will you come back?" There was no invitation in his voice, no pleading, just a question. Lisbon simply called the guard and walked out without answering him. She couldn't answer that question. She didn't know.

* * *

><p>Back at her apartment, Lisbon made a list. A list of the pros and cons of visiting Jane again. She thought it seemed too basic to help with such a complex situation, but she couldn't decide any other way. So she picked up a blunt pencil and a piece of paper, drew a rough line down the middle of the page, and made the list.<p>

Pros:

You want to.

He's your friend, it's the right thing to do.

You could try and find out what actually happened with Red John.

It'd give you something to do now you're unemployed.

You really want to.

Cons:

People will associate you with a criminal.

You'd have to spend time in that dank little room again.

You might find out what actually happened with Red John.

It'd eat up time you could be using to find a job.

Getting close means you could get hurt.

There it was. Lisbon stared blankly at her list and groaned. This was no help whatsoever. She flopped back into her chair, defeated and disheartened. Frowning, she felt something digging into her butt. Reaching under her thigh with her good arm, her fingers closed around something small and cold. She opened her hand in front of her face, and saw, with a flicker of disappointment, a penny.

_Well that was a let-down,_ she thought, and sighed, about to chuck the coin across the room, when a last, desperate idea came to her. She looked for a minute at the shiny copper, before announcing to the empty room, "Screw it. I'll never decide this on my own. Heads, I go, tails, I let the bastard rot in jail." She tossed the coin up in the air, her eyes wide as she watched it flip over and over, her heart full of conflict. After what seemed like a _really_ long time, the coin returned to earth and she snatched it out of the air, placing it flat on the back of her bad hand, covering it with her slender fingers. Taking a deep breath, she uncovered the coin. _Heads._ To her relief, she felt relieved. Smiling, she looked down at the golden cross resting on her collarbone. "Thanks." she whispered.


	5. Forgiveness and Falling

Jane's face lit up when he saw her sitting there, on the other side of the glass, and she knew instantly that coming back was the right choice. She smiled in greeting, and they both picked up the heavy plastic phones. It was a moment before either spoke. Eventually, Lisbon broke the expectant silence. "I want to know what happened with Red John. Everything." she stated, and Jane raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"You don't know?" he asked, looking quizzically at her. She shook her head discreetly, lips pursed, ready to hear the worst. "I'm sorry, I thought the team would've told you, but of course, I got you fired, so you probably haven't spoken to them, since you don't know where you stand with them outside work, relationship-wise." He said it so matter-of-factly, like they were discussing the weather and not delving intrusively into her psyche. She just looked at him expectantly, trying to arrange her features into a stoic mask, but he read every movement, every twitch. "Well," he said dramatically, "Here goes."

Jane launched into a detailed description of the events leading up to his murder of Red John, and Lisbon listened intently, her focus unfaltering, not even for a second. She stayed completely quiet, only murmuring occasional "Mm-hms" or "Aaahs" as he enlightened her on every gory detail. He told her how he had figured it out - with the phone trick, he told her every word that had passed the serial killer's lips, and explained the calm, cold way in which he had shot the evil man dead, whilst all the time rage had boiled through him.

When he finished he exhaled heavily, and looked down at the table. He looked exhausted, Lisbon noticed, and realised that for the first time in the seven years she'd known him, Jane had been totally, completely honest with her. She swallowed, trying to process her feelings about what she had just heard. So many times she had listened to people confess to murder, but never had she felt so _good_ about it. She fought within herself to find the part of her, the cop part that would be disgusted by Jane's story, but no matter how hard she tried she just…_couldn't._ Because in all honesty, she knew she would have done the same thing. And like that, she forgave him – not doing so would be hypocritical.

"Lisbon?" Jane's voice jerked her out of her thoughts, and she realised the guard was standing at the door looking expectantly at her. Jane nodded towards the guard. "Didn't you hear him? You need to go now. Visiting hours are over." Lisbon blinked and looked up, stammering "Oh, yeah…sure. Ok." Pushing her chair back she smiled apologetically at the guard, who simply rolled his eyes in response. She nodded to Jane and went to hang up the phone, but he lifted a hand to stop her, and said hurriedly, "Will you come back?" He looked her up and down, analysing her every movement as she tensed up for a split second, before relaxing and saying "Yes." A smile spread across his face as he watched her swiftly turn and walk away.

* * *

><p>She visited him almost every day after that, and they talked and laughed about everything. It started with them discussing past cases they had solved, and working at the CBI, but as the weeks drew on, their conversations became more personal. They spoke about their families, and childhoods; Lisbon listened in fascinated awe as Jane told her about growing up in the circus, and he reciprocated as she enlightened him about the trials and tribulations of public school. They talked about their first loves, and favourite music, books they had read and ones they thought each other should read. Lisbon got to know Frank, the gruff but quite sweet guard who had hit on her the first time she'd come. He'd let them have an extra five or ten minutes here and there.<p>

But every day, too soon, he would knock on the door of the tiny cement room and nod regretfully at the pair who, it was plain for him to see, were falling in love. And every day, when Lisbon made to put the phone back on the hook, Jane would ask her if she would come back, and every day he grew more hopeful that she would say yes. And every day, she did.


	6. Finding the Words

Eight months after her first visit to the jail, Teresa Lisbon felt like a different woman. Eight months ago, if someone had told her she would have spent every day visiting a murderer, not working, and frankly, not caring, she wouldn't have believed them. But now, she found herself doing just that, and although to some it may have seemed like she was spiralling downwards, she felt happier than she'd ever felt before. Even happier than when she got her retrievers.

She felt lighter, as if for the first time in her life, she was totally free – her shoulder healed, she wore comfier clothes, grew her hair longer, traded in her giant SUV and bought a bright green Bug-since she had always wanted one. The only thing that stayed the same was the gold cross pendant hanging around her neck. And she was ok with that.

* * *

><p>"Hey Frank, how's it going?" Lisbon asked cheerfully as the guard smiled at her.<p>

"Quite alright Miss Teresa, and may I say you are looking positively lovely on this fine day!" Frank replied happily in his gravelly Southern accent, opening the visiting room door for her. She sat down on the hard plastic seat which had come to feel so natural to her, and picked up the phone as Jane was led into his room on the other side of this glass. Suddenly, for the first time, it occurred to her that she wished the glass wasn't there. After all these years of rules and emotional issues separating her and Jane, they were gone and still one barrier remained. It irked her.

"Hey Lisbon," Jane greeted her the same way he had always done, and for some reason, today, it didn't seem right. She wasn't his boss anymore, after all. He frowned at her lack of reply, and tried again. "Lis-bon?" he called in a sing-song voice, trying to get her attention. Her head snapped up and she met his gaze, jaw set. "Why don't you ever call me by my first name?" she demanded, and Jane blinked in surprise, taken aback by her annoyed tone. "Well…" he started, but trailed off, unable to think of a reason. He sighed, raising his eyebrows in a way that admitted his defeat. "I don't know, I'm sorry, _Teresa._" he replied, her name rolling surprisingly easily off his tongue. She grinned triumphantly, and then they began chatting as normal, until once again, the clock struck the hour mark and Frank tapped on the door, signalling them to finish up. As had become customary, Jane asked "Will you come back?"

Lisbon frowned. "Why do you keep asking me that, when I've come every day for the last eight months?" she asked irritably. Jane sighed.

"Because I'm afraid that you won't come back before I die, and then I'll never get the chance to tell you I love you when I finally find the words." Lisbon's emerald eyes widened in shock, but before she had the chance to reply, he cut in. "What I want to know is why do you keep coming back?"

She smirked. "I wanted to hear the words when you found them."


	7. Black, White and Red All Over

Lisbon's blood pounded in her ears and she felt sick with nerves as she lay on the uncomfortable bed in the middle of the dingy, cramped trailer. Her long raven hair cascaded across the pillow and she listened intently to the sounds outside, waiting for the faintest hint of his voice. Her heart leapt into her throat as she heard footsteps outside, followed by a familiar male voice demanding to know where he was being taken.

She smirked. She had deliberately asked Frank not to tell Jane she'd arranged a conjugal visit – she'd wanted it to be a surprise, but now that he was approaching she regretted it, suddenly panicking that he would be mad.

He didn't give her much time to worry, bursting into the trailer waving his arms around like a madman yelling "If you're planning to kill me could you at least make it…" his words caught in his throat as his ocean-blue eyes fixed on her petite frame lying seductively in the middle of the bed. He swallowed loudly and Frank shut and locked the door chuckling "You kids have fun, I'll be back in 2 hours…"

Jane's face dropped and he put his head in his hands. Lisbon's eyes immediately widened in panic. "You're mad," she spluttered, sliding off the bed sheepishly, words spilling out of her cherry-red lips. "I'm sorry, I just thought…y'know what, it doesn't matter. I'll go. I'm sorry," she mumbled, fighting back tears of rejection. She'd thought…well, it didn't matter she'd obviously thought wrong. She hastily picked up her bag and made for the door, avoiding Jane's gaze.

He seemed to jerk himself out of his passive state and immediately blocked the door, gathering her up in his strong arms as she whimpered softly, tears spilling quietly down her face. She pushed uselessly against his torso, attempting to push him away, but he only held her tighter, stroking soothing circles in her hair until she eventually calmed down and looked at him. "I'm not mad," he whispered reassuringly as she wiped her eyes, embarrassed that she had got so upset. She sniffed, and smiled a watery smile at him. "Really?"

"Yes, it's just…it's nothing." He shook his head, and looked down at her, smiling lovingly as he slid his hand to the small of her back. She nodded.

"Now, _Teresa,_" he began teasingly, and in one swift movement lifted her off the ground, bringing her tear-stained face only inches away from his. "I believe you had a plan for this evening?" he questioned cheekily, waggling his eyebrows towards the bed. In answer, she closed the distance between them, kissing him passionately as he carried her over to the crisp white sheets. "I love you Teresa," he murmured into her mouth, his hot breath making her mind hazy. She wrapped her legs around his strong torso, dragging him down until they were both horizontal, never separating their lips as she replied breathlessly, "I love you too Patrick,"

She hit the lights, and the room went black.

* * *

><p>Three hours later, Lisbon sleepily blinked herself awake, reaching through the tangled sheets in search of his golden hair and sweet kiss. She dazedly flailed her arm around, reaching only thin air and, confused, propped herself up, wrapping her slender frame in the warm cotton bedclothes. Hazily, she rubbed her eyes and looked around, only to find that she was by herself. She wrinkled her brow in confusion. "Patrick?" she called, her voice still hoarse from sleep. No answer. She was completely alone.<p>

Looking around frantically she noticed a paper frog, lying undisturbed on his pillow. "Teresa" was neatly printed on the top. Her heart sank as her trembling hands unfolded the paper, sure of what she'd find written before she even read it. Her eyes scanned the page, and her brain rejected every word she read. _No,_ she pleaded silently, crumpling the paper and curling into a ball, wishing it wasn't true. But the words were imprinted on her brain, swirling round and round torturously:

"Teresa,

By the time you read this, I'll be dead. Please don't cry. These last eight months have been the best of my life. I want you to know that I love you – never forget that. And I already know that you love me (you proved that today, along with every other day that you've visited me.) The reason you're waking up alone is that I didn't want you to see me die. You knew that I would, but I didn't want our last moments together to be sad, so I didn't tell you when. You'll think that it's far too quick-I haven't been in prison for nearly long enough. But please, don't question why, or if anyone could have changed it. I don't regret killing Red John. My only regret is losing you. Live life to the full Teresa, don't mourn me. I'm not worth breaking your heart over. Learn from my mistakes. My love always,

Patrick"

She didn't know how long she lay there for, sobbing and inhaling his scent from the sheets, trying to pretend he wasn't gone. The next day, she couldn't remember getting back to her apartment; had no recollection of sitting numbly in the back of Frank's van, giving him monotone directions as he drove, not knowing what to say. All she knew was that he was gone, and all she had left was a photograph of two golden retrievers and a paper frog to prove that happiness ever existed in her life.

* * *

><p><strong>Two days later.<strong>

A loud bang came from her front door, causing Lisbon to jump. She slowly got up, a flurry of tissues falling to the floor in her wake, and scuffed along her narrow hallway. She picked up the paper from the floor beneath her letterbox, cursing as she cut her finger on the corner. Lethargically, she flopped back down into her squishy armchair, unfolding the Sacramento Bee in an attempt to distract herself from the misery that plagued her.

However, a new wave of hurt and devastation washed over her when she looked at the front page and, for the second time in her life, saw the man she loved staring back at her, under the headline, "RELIEF AS MANIAC CBI MURDERER FACES DEATH BY ELECTRIC CHAIR"

She tried to fight them, but the hot, salty tears consumed her, wracking her tiny frame as she lay hunched over the paper, her tears and the blood from her cut finger mixing with the ink. Before her eyes, Patrick Jane's face melted and morphed into an unrecognisable blob, and it was as if he was dying all over again.

The sheer hurt caused her blood to pound and she clutched her chest, feeling like if she cried any more her heart would tear from the strain. She sniffed and tried to calm down, blinking until the last few tears dropped onto the paper and her vision cleared, showing her the murky pool that had gathered on the paper. It was unreadable now, just an array of watery swirls; black, white and red all over.


End file.
